


Unexpected help

by Anonymous



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Breeding Kink, Childbirth, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Kink Meme, Kinky sex, Lactation Kink, M/M, Top Crowley (Good Omens), just kinks all around, kink meme fill, unrealistic orgasmic birth, unrealistic orgasmic milking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:34:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24160645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “Of courseI tried to miracle it away!” Aziraphale snapped back primly. He massaged his chest under the tunic. “Awfully finicky, these old things. I just can’t seem to make it stop, no matter what.”Crowley coughed softly. “Well, you’ll have to deal with it, I’m afraid— Mammals usually take a while to stop making milk after a birth.”Aziraphale went quiet. “It hurts,” he muttered, almost childish.Crowley stopped, and Aziraphale took some steps before noticing and stopping as well, turning with an almost quizzical noise.“I could— You know,” Crowley said, vaguely rough. “Help out.”Aziraphale’s cheek reddened.But he didn’t protest.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 300
Collections: Anonymous





	Unexpected help

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/3161.html?thread=2703961#cmt2703961) on the GO kinkmeme, but to be honest, I went pretty off topic from the prompt. No dub/non-con to be seen here, they are kinky shits together fully consensually and with gusto.
> 
> As I wrote on the kinkmeme: Warning for: Variety of efforts, both Crowley and Aziraphale using she/her at the start and shifting into he/him later, unrealistic orgasmic birth, unrealistic orgasmic milking, plain ol' kinky sex
> 
> That's it. There you go

There were many things Crowley expected as she stepped into the room, the noise of the unrelenting storm outside plunging everything in that deafening white noise. Many, many things. Possibly an orgy, considering the waves of pleasure he could feel as he ran up to the monastery.

But the nun who gently ushered her inside didn’t seem worried that this strange woman who appeared out of nowhere, in the middle of the night, might find out their deep, dark secret. She apologized, instead, for the fact that they already had another unexpected visitor walking through their door earlier that day and that things might be— Messy.

Crowley had no idea exactly what the nun could mean until she walked in the room, plunged in the orange lights of candles, herself.

“Now, now,” one of the nuns gently chided, kneeling between the spread, full thighs of the woman who just released a long moan. “Take a breath, there you go— The baby is coming out, you are doing fantastically.”

Crowley froze by the door. The pleasure in the air was so thick, and while the mortals might’ve thought that those moans were of pain, Crowley knew better. That was pure, unadulterated, maddening pleasure. The kind of pleasure that wipes your mind of any thought and leaves you a writhing, panting mess on the floor.

And it was no surprise, that, because the woman currently leaning back on the wooden chair, full breasts with dark, turgid nipples sticking out, resting heavily on top of a rounded belly, thighs spread open unashamedly as she moaned and pushed, and moaned again, the top of a wet, small head working her opening wide, was no other than the angel Crowley had been silently pining after for millennia, at that point.

“I’m very sorry,” the nun who guided her into the room whispered. Even that, along with the storm raging outside, wasn’t enough to cover the obscene wet noise coming from Aziraphale as she pushed, not enough to cover her desperate plea of pleasure, nor how her breasts jumped as she twitched. “The poor dear came to us in the middle of labor— Nowhere else to go—“

“It’s really no problem at all,” Crowley replied, gulping around a dry throat. It was all too well that she made sure to shift everything as she took on that female-presenting form, because she knew that, if she had a cock, she would be sporting the most obscene, raging erection of her life, right now.

As it were, she could feel the wetness rolling outside of her, folds pulsating with need.

“I’ve assisted to my fair share of births,” she added, and the nun smiled a frail smile. 

“Might you be willing to help? None of us really have any experience, I’m afraid.”

Oh, Crowley wanted so desperately to retreat in the most private corner she could find and plunge her fingers through her labia. She was so sure she’d orgasm the moment she would be able to touch her clitoris.

“Of course,” she replied, feeling proud of how her voice did not come out tremulous. The nun nodded, and approached the other two who were fidgeting around Aziraphale, clearly unsure of what to do as Aziraphale seemingly took a moment to rest, breathing heavily, eyes closed and cheeks flushed, both hands resting on her rounded belly. The nuns turned to Crowley as the one who guided her there whispered something to them.

Crowley approached.

“Would you be willing to— Oh, thank you so much,” the younger looking nuns exhaled, fretting. “She’s been working so hard, we just— Just don’t know how to help—“

“It is quite alright,” Crowley reassured, kneeling in front of the seating, between Aziraphale’s legs. Oh, it was obscene. Her flushed labia, the engorged clitoris, the ways she was stretching around the top of the head of the baby she was trying to birth. Her round, full belly and her round, full breasts, that Crowley wanted nothing more than to grope and squeeze.

Aziraphale blinked slowly, blue eyes wet and far, and she looked down. It took some seconds for the clarity to rise in her gaze, for the flush on her cheeks and ears to intensify.

“Crowley—“ she choked, and twitched, thighs going tense. Crowley shushed her gently, caressing her exposed inner thigh.

“It is alright, relax. I’m here to help,” Crowley murmured, never looking away from Aziraphale’s eyes. Aziraphale bit down on her lower lip, trembling slightly, hands moving as if searching for something to grab on her belly. She then looked up at the three worried nuns.

“Do you… Know each other?” the nun who walked Crowley in asked, indecisive.

“…Yes,” Aziraphale confirmed, breathless. “Could you— Ngh— Could you maybe leave us alone, please…?”

There was a second of silence, and Crowley gave an invisible nudge, just enough. 

“We— We will be praying, if you need anything—“ the third nun who had yet to speak said, and then all three of them hurried outside the room, closing the door. Aziraphale relaxed minutely.

“Came in at the right time,” she then sighed tremulously, shifting slightly to spread her legs even more, unashamed. “I wasn’t expecting— I don’t know what is going to happen when—“

She fell quiet, breathing with intent, eyes closing and eyebrows scrunched. The pleasure was so thick Crowley could almost taste it in the air.

“Wasn’t expecting for it to feel so good, huh, angel?” she teased roughly, and Aziraphale’s eyes snapped open. “I thought they were having an _orgy_ in here.”

“Oh, goodness gracious—“ Aziraphale snapped, but then her back arched and she choked out a groan, her opening twitching around the baby’s head. “Oh, Crowley— It feels— It’s so _intense_ —“

“Yeah, an angel giving birth. I can’t imagine how that wouldn’t have been downright orgasmic.”

“It’s not— Oh, fine,” Aziraphale sighed, dragging a trembling hand on her forehead. “I just— Can’t stop—“

“Don’t hold back, then,” Crowley whispered, rubbing a circle against Aziraphale’s inner thigh with a thumb. “It’s just you and me, now. They won’t even hear it. Let it go, angel.”

Aziraphale breathed in, and gritted her teeth, and then threw her head back and _shouted_ as her thighs went rigid, as her back arched, a squirt of clear liquid shooting through her twitching labia and her opening stretching some more. The shout changed, rolling into a long moan as she kept pushing and pushing, and then she breathlessly started to chant “Crowley, oh— Crowley, Crowley- I can’t— _Crowley_ —“ and then she screamed and went rigid as the baby’s head finally popped outside of her fully. She gave a full body shudder, going pliant with heavy breaths.

Crowley politely did not mention how she came during that little spectacle, untouched. She could feel the wetness staining her own inner thighs as she kept kneeling between Aziraphale’s legs.

“Is… The baby… Out…?” Aziraphale roughy breathed out, eyes closed, hands aimlessly running up and down her belly, up and down—

“Not yet,” Crowley replied with a rough chuckle. “Only the head.”

“Only the— _Oh_ ,” Aziraphale moaned, and Crowley watched while salivating, literally salivating as Aziraphale hands rose up her belly, along her chest, to grope her own, round breasts. “Oh, lord— This is so much—“ she moaned, tears hanging on her fair eyelashes.

“How did you even— What is going on?” Crowley managed to ask, trying to distract herself even as she hungrily stared at the way Aziraphale’s soft, round fingers sunk into the softness of her chest.

“Heaven’s order—“ Aziraphale breathlessly said. “There’s a couple down the village— They will raise a saint— But they cannot conceive on their own, so… So they just…”

“Put the baby in you,” Crowley finished for her. “Did they even ask?”

Aziraphale silence was telling. “I woke up and I was pregnant,” she finally sighed. “I will leave the baby with them once he is born—“

Crowley let out a rough chuckle, shaking her head. Of course.

“Well, you should be able to go back to normal soon,” she encouraged, still massaging Aziraphale’s thigh. “Another couple of orgasmic pushes like this last one and he’s gonna pop out for sure.”

“That’s not funny,” Aziraphale chided, pouting down at her. The effect was ruined by her engorged lips and flushed cheeks, by the sweat drenched curls sticking to her forehead. She groped her breasts again. “Ugh, they hurt— It’s unbearable—“

Crowley glanced at the engorged nipples. They were practically begging to be suckled.

“Probably will start to make milk soon,” she commented airily, shifting her weight forward to lean over Aziraphale. “Can I?”

The last question came out just a tiny bit needy. Aziraphale blinked back, clearly confused, but moved her hands away. So slow, so very carefully, Crowley cupped the breasts. They were so warm and heavy, surely so full of milk— She massaged them slowly, and Aziraphale sighed.

“This is humiliating,” she then muttered, blue eyes sliding away. “I wasn’t— I wasn’t exactly planning on having you walking in on me trying to birth a baby.”

“Humiliating?” Crowley replied with an incredulous chuckle. “Angel, you’ve never looked more gorgeous—“

She snapped her mouth close, hands freezing on Aziraphale’s breasts. But Aziraphale looked back at her with quiet surprise. 

“…You really think so?”

“You look heavenly,” Crowley confirmed. “They should make statues about you, angel.”

“I cannot imagine anything more enticing than a woman spreading her legs, the head of a baby hanging out of her,” Aziraphale muttered, and then winced. “They hurt— I know I should keep pushing but— They hurt so much, Crowley.”

“You must be about to burst with milk,” Crowley sighed back. “You know, that happens to cattle. If they are not milked—“

“I’m not a _cow_ —“

“Still counts. You need to make milk, or they’ll keep hurting,” Crowley continued, looking down at Aziraphale’s breasts with an almost calculating expression. “…Can I?”

Aziraphale sighed. “Whatever it is you want to do, just do it. If it’ll work…”

Crowley was tempted to launch a look skyward. Was She giving him a gift, that night? What else could Crowley call what she found? An angel drowning in pleasure, full of so much, openly letting her touch and grope and now even suckle on her nipples—

Well, she wasn’t going to look at the gift horse in the mouth. Crowley leaned in, carefully closing her lips around Aziraphale’s right nipple, and started sucking. Aziraphale went rigid.

“That’s what you—“ she exhaled, but then gave a full body twitch. “Oh. Oh,” she added, breathy.

It didn’t take much coaxing. It came slowly, first, almost timid, just some drops melting on Crowley’s tongue.

It was the sweetest taste she ever had. Sweeter than dates, than honey.

“Oh,” Aziraphale sighed again, going pliant, and more milk started to pour out of her, like a rich waterfall, a stream of the most heavenly manna that could’ve possibly existed.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale moaned, and Crowley heard the wet gushing as the angel started pushing again. “The other one. Please—“

Crowley complied, almost purring when Aziraphale’s fingers started carding through her red curls. She slid a hand along Aziraphale’s belly, down, grazing her engorged clitoris just barely and finding the baby’s head with her palm.

“Keep going, angel. I got you,” she murmured around Aziraphale’s nipple, before starting to suck again. Aziraphale moaned, and squirmed, and moaned again with more wet noises. Her fingers closed like a vice around Crowley’s hair. Her other hand found Crowley’s shoulder, and closed there like a clamp.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale repeated, almost a sob. More wet noises. “Crowley,” she sobbed, before letting out a soft keening noise. “Crowley!” she screamed, arching her back, milk pouring out of both breasts like a fountain, an obscene mix of wetness and splashing noises filling the room as the weight of the baby started to fill Crowley’s palm.

She caught him as he came out, and let out his first cry.

**

“They still hurt,” Aziraphale sighed as they walked away together. The couple had been overjoyed to find the young, healthy baby boy waiting for them on their doorsteps. “I can’t make them stop, even if— Even now.”

Something had shifted between them, that night. Aziraphale had allowed Crowley to hold her while she cradled the baby and slowly recovered from the intense feeling of the birth. She allowed Crowley to help her get clean, to help her make the baby latch on her generous breasts. Helped _him_ when he shifted back in his usual corporation and went to leave the baby with his rightful parents.

“Right,” Crowley muttered, pondering if maybe he ought to have kept his female corporation even now. The mere thought of Aziraphale still lactating was certainly making his cock stir. “That’s, huh— Did you try to miracle it away?”

“ _Of course_ I tried to miracle it away!” Aziraphale snapped back primly. He massaged his chest under the tunic. “Awfully finicky, these old things. I just can’t seem to make it stop, no matter what.”

Crowley coughed softly. “Well, you’ll have to deal with it, I’m afraid— Mammals usually take a while to stop making milk after a birth.”

Aziraphale went quiet. “It hurts,” he muttered, almost childish.

Crowley stopped, and Aziraphale took some steps before noticing and stopping as well, turning with an almost quizzical noise.

“I could— You know,” Crowley said, vaguely rough. “Help out.”

Aziraphale’s cheek reddened. 

But he didn’t protest.

**

It was all as well that Aziraphale allowed him to milk his breasts (less round, now, but still full, hanging heavily, nipples red and needy), because that turned out to be extremely useful in only a matter of days.

Crowley was called back to Hell, directly into Lord Beelzebub’s chambers. They apparently weren’t quite as happy with his latest report as he hoped they would be.

“I mean— An entire village plunged in civil unrest, that’s not too bad, isn’t it?” he tried to justify himself, shrugging. “I don’t think there was much else I could—“

“That is for our lord to decide,” Beelzebub replied, and their nose wrinkled. They openly sniffed the air. “What’s that smell? I can feel it all over you—“

“What smell do you— Oi!”

Dagon smirked a fanged smirk, and then smelled the rough canvas rucksack he had still slung over his shoulder, as he was recalled.

“Comes from here,” she said, launching the sack to Beelzebub. Crowley made a vague gesture with his hands, panicking.

There wasn’t much in there, other than the clothes he’d been using as he presented more female looking. Nothing but clothes, and a glass jar full of—

“…Where did you get this?” Beelzebub asked, almost a whisper. “This— _Where did you get it_?”

Crowley stared, mind running for long seconds.

_I milked it out of the angel’s tits with my own hands after I drank so much I just couldn’t fit anymore in me. And let me tell you, the noises he made— It’s a miracle I didn’t rip his breeches off of him and sunk my cock into him and fucked his brain out. They should give me an award for that._

“I had no idea it was even possible to get more of this— Last time I had some it was way back with that entire Nephilim situation—“

Beelzebub’s voice was— Coveting. Crowley had never heard them speak with anything other than a disinterested buzzing tone, ever.

“I. uh—“ he let out some inarticulate noises. “The guys upstairs— Had one of theirs give birth for a human couple. Decided to snatch some milk for myself while they were resting?” he offered, wanting to smack himself for letting it come out more as a question than a statement.

Still, Beelzebub turned to him, looking almost impressed.

“You— Stole an angel’s milk.”

“Yep,” Crowley replied, popping the P. “They were like— Out. Totally done. Just went there and—“ he made a vague gesture mid-air, as if he was milking an invisible cow.

Dagon let out a low whistle. 

“…Do you think you can get more?” Beelzebub asked, after a long beat of silence. 

“Well, I can certainly try—“

“Do it, and our lord will surely be pleased with you,” Beelzebub interjected, pocketing the glass jar and launching the rucksack back to Crowley. “Pleased enough that I’m sure he will be less prone to recall you from earth, even if your performance isn’t constantly— Stellar.”

Crowley’s mouth went dry.

“He will be _very_ pleased, Crowley,” Beelzebub repeated, firm.

**

“Oh, well, that is quite alright.”

“…It is?” Crowley replied, astonished, feeling like all the winds he’d been trying to get behind his sail to try and convince the angel to give him more milk had just disappeared in an unsatisfying wheeze.

“It just won’t stop _coming_ ,” Aziraphale replied with demure annoyance, as if he was talking about an insistent dog following him, rather than his own breasts still producing milk. “I tried to— Relieve myself, these past few days, but it just won’t come out as easily as it does when you do it.”

Crowley remained silent.

“And, let me tell you, it is quite the headache. My chest is very sore.”

_I’m sure it has nothing to do about the noises you make when I milk you._

“Well,” Crowley finally managed to wheeze out. “Well. Let’s— Go to my rooms, then?”

“Very well,” Aziraphale replied, standing and dusting his trousers. Crowley wasn’t sure if it was just imagination, but he could see just the hint of the angel’s engorged nipples poking through his shirt.

He made way, throat dry. His current lodging did not came equipped with empty glass jars, but there were some waiting when they entered and closed the door. Crowley grabbed them, and sat on the bed, legs spread as Aziraphale shook his shirt off.

Oh, his little breasts looked about to explode. There was already a fat drop of milk collecting on the tip.

Crowley patted the space between his thighs, and Aziraphale, vaguely flushed and avoiding his eyes, sat down, pressing his back against Crowley’s chest.

“Alright,” Crowley murmured in his ear, grinning when Aziraphale shivered. He cupped his right breast, putting one of the jars under the nipple before starting to squeeze. He did so slowly, luxuriously, starting from where the skin started to curve around the soft shape, pulling as much as he could with it, all the way to Aziraphale’s nipple, thumb and index fingers squeezing firmly on the hot, rough skin of the swollen bud. And milk flowed out freely, rolling down Crowley’s fingers and on the glass walls, pooling rapidly at the bottom of the jar.

The smell was impossible to describe. It was no wonder Beelzebub smelled it on him even if they were suffocated by the usual stench of Hell. It was sweet and inebriating, caressing your nose like a gentle lover, going right up to your brain, rendering you dazed and content.

And that was just the _smell_. The taste was more addicting than alcohol, and the only thing that was stopping Crowley from pushing Aziraphale down on the bed and latching onto his breasts directly was the fact that he sort of desperately needed that milk— And that he almost made himself sick, last time, with how much he drank.

Aziraphale let out a small sigh, went pliant against Crowley’s chest, head lolling back.

Crowley kept milking him, painstakingly slow, making sure not to waste a single drop. He kept milking Aziraphale, and Aziraphale made those whimpering, needy, mewling noises. Those breathless little moans, those soft ‘Crowley—‘ he’d whisper, breath hot against Crowley’s skin. He would occasionally cry out, hips bucking, and Crowley dared not ask if Aziraphale just orgasmed. There never was an erection tenting the cloth, but that meant nothing. Aziraphale might have decided to wear a cunt again, and Crowley kept imagining how it might look like. How it might be red and flushed and wet, with that turgid clitoris sticking out. How Aziraphale might be twitching and clenching as he came virtually untouched, just from the sheer pleasure of Crowley milking him like cattle.

And he never said a thing, even when surely he could feel Crowley’s desperately hard cock pressing against his bottom the entire time.

**

Everyone was very pleased, indeed, when he sent down three full jars of milk.

Then, after some long weeks of blessed silence, they replied.

_‘Keep it coming’_

“Well, fuck,” Crowley said, looking at the letter crushed between his fingers.

**

The angel was there _again_. It was like he couldn’t stay away.

“Goodness, dear. Are you alright?”

“Jus’ peachy.” 

“You are quite drunk.”

“So what?”

“It is not even five in the afternoon.”

“Issss night somewhere, angel,” Crowley slurred, throwing his head back to gulp another hearty swig. Aziraphale looked at him, concerned.

“I think it is about time you stop, dear,” he then said, and Crowley groaned as the angel slid an arm under his armpits. “Why don’t you come with me, tell me what is wrong?”

“Wass wrong? Issss that I sssomehow blew it, isss what isss wrong, angel,” Crowley replied, hissing more than he’d like to.

“What could you mean?”

“Easssssy sssolution, right?” Crowley chuckled back, cold and slurred and very, very drunk. “Jussst— Jussst give ‘em the milk— And they’d leave me alone— Foolproof plan. Except— Except they sssssent me a letter. They want more.”

He could feel Aziraphale going rigid at his side. Still, the angel kept guiding him, even if his voice lowered.

“I can’t— I don’t have anymore, Crowley, you know that.”

“Of courssssse I know that! Do you think they give a fuck?!” he snapped, almost letting his entire weight being dragged by the angel. They entered a modest little home, and Aziraphale kicked the door close, before guiding Crowley on the lumpy bed.

“Maybe— I can try to miracle some?” Aziraphale proposed, still looking concerned as he hovered into Crowley’s field of vision.

“You couldn’t even sssstop your own titssss from _making_ milk, angel.”

Aziraphale blushed, but did not protest. “Yes, well— Can still try.”

He rose, back ramrod straight, and took a deep breath. He snapped his fingers, pulling up from above, and let some seconds pass—

“…It is not working, I’m afraid.”

Crowley let himself fall backward on the bed with the most ‘yeah, no shit’ grunt he could muster.

A long silence stretched as Crowley pouted at the ceiling and Aziraphale puttered about, moving things around aimlessly.

“I just— Don’t know what else I could do to help,” he snapped after a long pause, clearly frustrated. “If I could give it to you, I would, you know that, Crowley—“

“I know,” Crowley tiredly replied. “Not much anyone elssse can do— Unless you just get pregnant again— I sssuppossse I should jusssst go down there and try to explain to them how the milk, you know, _ssssstops_ at some point.”

“Get pr— Oh,” Aziraphale replied with a breathy little tone. Crowley blinked at the ceiling, sobered himself up instantly, and then slowly sat back up.

The angel was distinctly red in the face, avoiding Crowley’s eyes.

“…Angel.”

Silence.

“Angel. You _want_ to get pregnant again, don’t you?”

Taking a deep breath, Aziraphale launched a little surreptitious look skyward. “I have to admit that— After the first moment of surprise— It was quite a nice feeling,” he said, voice tinny. “Carrying a life—“

“Then having an orgasmic birth—“

“—And letting it out in the world,” Aziraphale continued, as if deaf.

“And _then_ getting milked like a cow—“

“Crowley, honestly!” Aziraphale snapped, cheeks intensely red. “I’m trying to help you out!”

“I’m sure this comes from pure altruism. Nothing to do with your little hedonistic self and how amazing you felt during the entire affair, right?” Crowley grinned wolfishly. “And _how_ exactly are you planning to get pregnant again? Putting on a nice pair of breasts and curvy, birthing hips, and seduce the first mortal you can find out there?”

Aziraphale did not reply, the flush on his face intensifying. He glanced at Crowley, quickly, and looked away.

The smile slid off of Crowley’s face.

“No.”

“…”

“Angel.”

“…”

“Angel, I— Fuck. You can’t just— When I— You knew, didn’t you? You could feel it. How desperate I was. You knew that if you had said even a single word, I would’ve pushed you on your hands and knees, and sunk my cock right into you, didn’t you?”

“…”

“You could feel how hard I was for you— If I had vanished your clothing and impaled you on my cock, you would’ve just taken it, wouldn’t you?”

“Must you be so— So _foul_?”

Crowley jumped on his feet. He could already feel his cock filling.

Aziraphale hadn’t denied. And there was a strange energy mixing inside of Crowley’s belly, a mix of joy and anger and pure, animalistic instinct.

“I am foul. _It_ is foul,” Crowley growled, a manic grin pulling at his mouth. “All those sanctimonious little spiel about the sanctity of life you guys like to spout at a moment’s notice— That’s how humans do it, angel. It’s dirty, it’s obscene, it’s full of fluids and crude words. Full of groping needy hands, and the noise of skin against skin. They reproduce because it feels _good_. Because the mere idea of putting their cocks into a warm, wet pussy drives their life. Because the mere idea of having a hard, hot dick impaling them, filling them to the brim makes pregnancy an acceptable risk.”

Aziraphale said nothing, ears distinctly red. He wasn’t looking at Crowley, but he was biting his lower lip, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“And you had a taste,” Crowley continued, closing the distance even more. “You had a taste of that profane, messy process. You liked being full, didn’t you. Liked the burn as you pushed that baby out. Liked how your sore tits would just pour milk. It felt _good_.”

Aziraphale did not reply, but did not move away either. Crowley could feel his short breathing caressing his collarbones.

“And now you are willing to do it again. Now you are asking me to fill you up. Breed you like an animal.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered, hoarse, and finally looked up. He did not move away even when the painful, pulsing erection tenting Crowley’s trousers pushed against him.

“Just say it,” Crowley whispered.

“Crowley—“ Aziraphale repeated. Closed his eyes, working his throat nervously. He let out a whiny little sigh, but finally whispered, “put a baby in me. Please.”

Somehow, Crowley managed not to come right there and then. He grabbed Aziraphale’s shoulders, pushing him belly down on the bed. Aziraphale made a choking noise, but when Crowley literally ripped his trousers off of him he raised his bottom, offering full view to his red, turgid pussy.

It was practically begging to be fucked, wetness making it gleam in the soft lighting.

“Fuck, you’re a dream, angel,” Crowley choked out, hoarse, struggling with his own pants before just snapping his fingers and make them disappear. His cock bobbed painfully between his legs, as hard as marble and as flushed as Aziraphale’s effort. Aziraphale turned around slightly with hooded eyes, and made a choked noise at the sight of it.

“Tell me you don’t want a huge fucking cock spearing you, and I’ll resize it,” Crowley commented with rough impertinence. The way Aziraphale’s pussy twitched, his insides clenching were more than a loud answer. “Yeah, that is what I thought.”

He did not bother easing Aziraphale into it. He was so wet and open it was clear he’d been yearning for a long while. Crowley grabbed his hips, lining himself up, and with a single, decisive sway of his hips fully sunk into Aziraphale’s impossibly hot insides.

Aziraphale _screamed_ , wings sprouting out of his back in a shower of white feathers and ripped cloth. Crowley froze for a moment, scared he might’ve been too rough, that he had hurt his angel—

“Crowley,” Aziraphale sobbed desperately, wings twitching, body clenching around Crowley’s cock. “Breed me, Crowley, _please_ —“

“Fuck,” Crowley whispered back with a half hysterical laugh. “Fuck— Fuck,” he punctuated each word with a sway of his hips, the noise of skin slapping against skin loud into the room. “ _Fuck_. Aziraphale. Fuck— Want to put a baby in you so badly—“

Aziraphale moaned loudly, pushing back with need. Crowley all but started to jackhammer in him with intent.

“Want to see you grow heavy and round,” Crowley breathed out, completely captivated by the lust and the need and the pleasure. “Want to see you come over and over as you give birth— Want you to make so much milk I will grow sick of milking you—“

“ _Crowley_!” Aziraphale keened, and melted in a series of loud moans as his insides twitched and clenched around Crowley’s cock. Crowley didn’t stop.

He was going to make Aziraphale come, over and over and over.

“Gonna breed you,” he choked, pushing into him so much, as if he could possibly go even deeper. “Gonna breed you over and over— Gonna keep you pregnant and milking all the damn time—“

“Yes!” Aziraphale wailed, suddenly lurching forward. He turned with surprising haste, grabbed Crowley’s shoulder and pushed him belly up on the bed. He straddled Crowley’s hip, impaling himself on his cock, and sobbing. “Yes, yes, yes—“

Crowley’s fingers clenched around Aziraphale’s soft hips, as he took in the vision presented to him. Aziraphale riding him with abandon, eyes wet and unfocused, curls sticking to his flushed face and red nipples on soft breasts bouncing with his every movement. His wings still spread out almost in search for balance, as their owner had left any ounce of self-control and reason, abandoning himself to his most baseline needs and wants—

He was gorgeous. He was _glowing_. Crowley felt like he might discorporate right there and then.

“Aziraphale,” he choked out, closing his eyes, eyebrows scrunched. He felt on the brim of an explosive orgasm, and was just waiting, just waiting for the last push— “ _Aziraphale_ —“

“I want no one but you,” Aziraphale cried back, hips rolling recklessly. “No one but you, only you, to give me a child—“

Crowley shouted, and saw literal stars.

**

When Crowley woke up, he realized he had actually fallen asleep.

His mind was a haze. He still could faintly feel how hard he came. The memory of how their heavy breaths mingled as they winded down. The wet noise and small moan Aziraphale made when he climbed off of Crowley’s hips, his still half-hard cock sliding out of the angel. The way he let himself fall heavily by Crowley’s side, a hand on his chest.

Crowley had fallen asleep. They must’ve slept for hours, because it was dark outside, and Aziraphale was still snoring softly.

Slowly, carefully, Crowley climbed down the bed. Aziraphale was lying on a side, his wings a mess of feathers. He shifted slightly when Crowley stood, and Crowley looked between his legs, at the mound of his effort, and saw a thick spurt of come roll generously out as the angel moved.

His cock twitched. He wondered if Aziraphale would be willing to get right on round two, once he’d wake.

After all, they had to make sure it _stuck_.

**

“You are fidgety,” Crowley commented, pushing a kiss on top of those rowdy curls. “What’s on your mind?”

“Ah,” Aziraphale exhaled, and cleared his throat. “Nothing, just— Nothing important, really.”

Crowley paused for a moment. He knew his angel, inside and out (in more ways than one), and it was hardly a challenge, deciphering that tone of voice.

“You miss it, don’t you?” Crowley teased, circling his shoulders with both arms. “We haven’t done it for quite a while even before the end of all things approached— The modern world took us by storm, and all that.”

“I don’t know what you are referring to,” Aziraphale replied with a dignified sniff.

“ ‘Course you do,” Crowley nuzzled the soft curls at his temple. “Want me to give you a baby, angel?”

Aziraphale shuddered, but said nothing. He carefully put down the mug he was holding.

“It’s just— We can’t,” he sighed mournfully. “The days we could leave a baby on someone’s doorsteps and be sure they would take care of them are long gone, I can’t just— It’s _wasteful_.”

“I suppose. But we are also free, now,” Crowley replied, kissing his cheek. “We don’t have to skimp on miracles anymore. If we think about it, I’m sure we can find a way to give you the feeling of pregnancy and birth, of making milk, without actually having to make a whole new human, right?”

Aziraphale went quiet, but sounded hopeful as he piped up, “…You really think so?”

“We can do what we want, angel.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale wiggled pleasantly in his hold. “Well, then. We can— Brainstorm.”

“In the bedroom,” Crowley breathed against his neck, biting it briefly. “Let’s brainstorm there.”

And when Crowley pulled him up, gently, Aziraphale went, pliant.


End file.
